New Life
by Nyeerg
Summary: Roxas is just another foster kid, shuffled from home to home- a 'problem kid'- but that won't last, as long as Sora's family has their hands on him, and he thinks he's going to like being a part of a family again.
1. Chapter 1

Roxas was just another lonely boy, shifted from foster home to foster home basically his entire life, labeled a 'problem child' and sent off for others to deal with. In seven years, he'd been to twelve foster homes and one orphanage. That one hadn't lasted long. It wasn't Roxas' fault that he and the three other teenagers hadn't gotten along, but since he was the newest addition, he was the one labeled the instigator, and he was sent off to another stiff, unpleasant house- none of those places could be called a home.

At that moment, he was on his way to his thirteenth foster house. His caseworker was sitting in the driver's seat, and Roxas was in the back, forehead pressed against the window. You couldn't say he was dreading the newest house, but he certainly wasn't looking forward to it. He'd last a month, maybe, two at the outside. The foster parents had a son his age. He never got along with people his age.

No, he didn't get along with anybody, at all, his age or otherwise, not since his parents' accident. When they died, his life died along with them.

"Cheer up, now," his caseworker said, suddenly, breaking the silence. "The Strifes are wonderful people. I'm sure you'll get along fine!" She was a perpetually cheerful woman, but she was the one assigned the problem cases. She didn't mean what she said; her job was only to keep him in one place long enough to find another place to put him. He'd learned that lesson a long time ago. "And here we are!" She pulled into the driveway of a brown and white two story house and parked the car, but she didn't get out. "Do you want to leave your stuff in here for right now?"

'Stuff' consisted of a large backpack. It had a few changes of clothes, a notebook, a blue marble, and his keychain. It only had one key, to the lock on his notebook, but the notebook and the key were the only things he had from his parents. They were the only things he'd grabbed before leaving for the first foster home. He hadn't realized that he wasn't going home; he hadn't realized that he wouldn't see anything else until his eighteenth birthday, when the insurance money and the storage unit were put in his name. He'd been such a _stupid_, naïve child.

"Like it matters," he said. He couldn't get out until she opened his door- child security locks- which meant that he was stuck in there, doubly so if she decided to lecture.

Thankfully, the front door opened and a group of teens poured out of it. His eyes met with the startling blue of a brown-haired boy, and it became immediately clear who he was when he turned back and yelled, "MOM, THEY'RE HEEERE!"

A woman with the same blue eyes appeared behind them mere seconds later, and the caseworker sighed at Roxas before getting out and opening his door.

Roxas climbed out of the car, and the smell of the ocean nearly overwhelmed him. He'd known the Strifes lived close to the ocean, but being close enough to actually smell it was a surprise.

The two boys and the girl bounded down the stairs, and the brown-haired boy grinned and waved. "Hi! You're Roxas, right?"

"No, Sora, he's Seifer in disguise." The other boy, a tall, almost menacing boy, said. He rocked back on his heels, hands shoved deep in his pockets, and eyed Roxas. "The idiot here is Sora. He doesn't always think before he opens his mouth."

Sora pouted, and Roxas cocked an eyebrow. Why didn't he say something? Why would he just let the other guy insult him like that?

"I think you're scaring him," the girl admonished him. She gave him a bright, happy grin. "I'm Kairi! Hope you like Destiny Islands! C'mon, guys!" She grabbed both boys by the collar, and pushed them towards the sidewalk. "Ignore them, they're always like that. Nice to meet you!"

She jogged after the boys, who'd broken into sprints nigh-simultaneously, and left Roxas standing by the car, baffled.

"Roxas, come on. It's going to rain soon." His caseworker was standing on the porch with who must have been Mrs. Strife, hands on her hips and one foot tapping impatiently. Roxas let out an annoyed huff, but retrieved his backpack and followed the women into the house.

-

Several minutes later, his confusion hadn't faded. In fact, it had tripled.

Most of the time, when he met new foster parents, they tried to hide their suspicion that he was going to snap any moment, but it was always blatantly obvious and it soured any attempts at 'fixing' him. Mrs. Strife, on the other hand, was trying to force-feed him cake, and the only vibes he was getting were of the eat-the-cake-NOW-or-else variety. It was an incredibly strange first meeting.

And it wasn't store-bought cake either. It was homemade, home frosted, touch-of-love cake, and Mrs. Strife was watching every bite he took, and tsking under her breath.

"He's too skinny," she said finally. After the initial introductions, she hadn't said much actively directed at Roxas. The caseworker had shown her Roxas' file, they'd discussed school and house rules, and most of it had gone on without so much as a peep from Roxas. He knew the drill. School, home, chores, homework, then he'd hide in whatever room was assigned to him until dinner, and then it was wash, rinse, repeat. "How tall is he?"

The caseworker opened the file, but before she could flip more than two pages, Roxas spoke up. "I'm five eleven." _And I'm not skinny_, he mentally added. His baggy clothes were second-hand, and they fit badly, at best; underneath them were muscles honed by scrapping in schoolyards and a _lot_ of running.

"How much do you weigh?" she asked, eyebrows raised. No, Roxas thought, she didn't _ask_. She _said_ it in a voice that brooked no argument, and he was yet again startled by how straightforward and open she was. _Why does she care? I'm a problem case. It's not like anything she does is gonna reflect badly on her_.

"One sixty five," he answered, prompt and just as open. "It's healthy on the BMI scale."

"The BMI scale is not accurate unless it's done by a licensed professional and you haven't been for a checkup in ages, and you're still too skinny." She turned back to the caseworker, who had a look of plain surprise on her tired, wrinkled face. "How often has he been getting regular, square meals? And I don't mean the stuff they serve in schools, either, I've checked on them and they aren't 'square' or 'healthy' in seven cases out of ten."

The caseworker went to open his file, but the file didn't have information on things like that and neither did the caseworker. "Foster parents are required to provide-"

"That's not what I asked." She turned back to Roxas, and noticed that he'd stopped eating the cake. He caught her stare, and stuck a bite in his mouth before she could tell him _again_ to finish it. "Have you been getting good meals?"

He swallowed the cake without chewing, and took a quick drink from his cup of water before answering. "Uh…" He chanced a look at his caseworker, but she was staring blankly at Mrs. Strife. "Yes?"

"Tell me the truth."

"Sometimes?" Roxas tensed up, expecting yelling, directed at either him or the caseworker, but Mrs. Strife merely made a pointed look at the cake, and turned her scary blue eyes back to the caseworker.

"Is there anything else we need to go over?" she asked. The caseworker shook her head, and Mrs. Strife smiled and stood up. "I'm sure Roxas is exhausted from the drive. We should let him get some rest, don't you think? I'm sure you'll call if you think of anything else I should know. Let me get your coat." She stalked out of the kitchen, but Roxas got the impression that she wasn't mad at his caseworker, per se, but at the lack of 'care' she felt he needed. _Is she like this for all her foster kids?_

"You have my number. Call me if you need anything_._" Her arms twitched, like she felt it was appropriate to offer a hug, but Roxas dropped his eyes to the half-finished cake and made a noncommittal noise. _When_, she meant, not if, and 'need anything' was practically code for 'when the shit hits the fan'. It always happened. It was practically required of him.

Mrs. Strife returned with the coat, and escorted the caseworker out to the car. Roxas took the time to scarf down the rest of the cake; he hadn't eaten much all day. He didn't normally; he wasn't ever hungry, not really, but he suddenly felt like his stomach was a black pit, and the cake only put a tiny dent in it. He could hear an exchange from outside, but he couldn't make out what was being said, or even which one was talking. It was probably the caseworker warning Mrs. Strife not to let him near the valuables or something, which was stupid because Roxas had no use for valuables. Also, they were hard to steal in foster homes anyhow and it was a waste of his time, not to mention a _really_ bad idea if all you wanted was to stay under the radar.

He got up and stretched, and took the plate and fork over to the sink. There wasn't anything in it, or any dishes off to the side, but he didn't want to check the dishwasher or think on it too much, so he just rinsed the plate and left it in the sink.

He turned around, and jumped. A tall blonde, taller than Sora's silver-haired friend, was leaning against the doorway into the living room. Blue eyes bored into Roxas', and he froze. Had anybody mentioned a second son? Who was he? _Why the hell is he staring at me like that!?_

"Cloud! When did you get home?" Mrs. Strife opened her arms, and the man gave her a hug. Roxas' eyes caught on the man's biceps, which he was pretty sure were larger around than his _thighs_. "Cloud, meet Roxas!"

"He's the foster kid, I take it," the man said. He held out one hand, and Roxas tentatively took it. "Nice to meet you." He dropped Roxas' hand and turned back to Mrs. Strife. "Where's Sora?"

"He and his friends went to the store to pick up dinner, why?" Mrs. Strife noted the lack of plate, and glanced into the sink. "Cloud, will you show Roxas to Sora's room? We're not quite done painting the spare room yet so he's bunking with Sora."

Cloud nodded, and wandered back into the living room. "Tell Sora I need my keys."

"Oh, did Leon finish your bike?"

"It's a motorcycle, Mom, not a _bike_."

Mrs. Strife smiled blandly. "Whatever you say, darling. Roxas, dinner'll be whenever Sora gets back, so after dinner Sora can show you where to put your things." She bustled to the sink, then stopped and impulsively wrapped her arms around Roxas. "I hope you like it here," she said.

And the strange thing was Roxas got the impression that she actually _meant _it.

"Now run along, and make yourself at home, you understand?" She let go and gave him a gentle push towards his backpack. He couldn't fight down the small smile that forced its way out, and he turned away before she could see it. She might want to hug him again, or pet his hair, or something weird. He wouldn't put it past her.

-

"That's the bathroom," Cloud said, pointing at the first door at the top of the stairs. "Knock if the door's closed, if it's open it's free game. Mom expects us to keep it clean. This'll be your room." He opened the dark wood door, and Roxas peered in. The walls were half primer, half beige and brown stripes. There was a bed with a dresser and a lamp stacked on top of it in the middle, covered by a plastic tarp. "You got here a little earlier than expected, so you'll probably be sleeping with Sora for a week or two until it gets done. Hope you don't mind."

Roxas shrugged. "I've never had a room to myself so it doesn't really matter to me either way." He closed the door, and followed Cloud down the hall. They passed a doorway that Cloud didn't comment on, so Roxas assumed it was probably his own bedroom. Cloud stopped at the door at the end of the hall, and pushed it open to reveal a room covered in ocean memorabilia, trophies, and just about anything Roxas could've imagined. It wasn't exactly a mess, but it looked like Sora had just been sticking things wherever they'd go for the past few years.

"Remind Sora to find the blow-up mattress, as it's his fault it's gone missing. Just dump your stuff wherever, Sora won't care." With that, Cloud left him alone, and Roxas dropped his backpack next to the desk.

Sora's room smelled masculine, but not like cologne. Roxas thought about it for a moment, but he couldn't really place the scent. It was musty, and just kind of smelled of _boy_. He wandered over to the bookshelf, and lifted up one of the many trophies. _Junior Blitzball Tournament First Place_, it read. So Sora played Blitzball. Or used to, at any rate. None of the trophies were newer than two years ago, but there were a metric crapton of them. Roxas scanned the bookshelf, the windowsill, and the desk, and counted at least fifteen, and he thought he spotted the glint of gold underneath Sora's bed. He replaced the one in his hand and climbed onto Sora's bed. It was a mess, blankets and sheets tousled, and two of the three pillows were shoved half under the blankets. Roxas snorted; it fit the rest of the small room.

He grabbed a trophy at random from the windowsill. This one wasn't for Blitzball, though; it read _Freestyle Fighting Second Place_. He put it down, and a much larger, much more intricate trophy caught his eye. It was up on a shelf in the corner, out of the way and half-hidden by the curtains. He carefully took it down, and his heart skipped a beat. _Twilight Town Struggle Competition_.

_Sora's won the _Struggle_? He doesn't look like he could hurt a fly!_

He ran his fingers over the trophy, and closed his eyes. His fingers ran over one of the marbles, and he knew it was a dead match for the one in his backpack. His father had fought in a few of the Struggle competitions, and there was a matching trophy in the storage unit in Twilight Town. He lowered his head as the memory of his father, always so alive and vibrant and _there_ washed over him. He bit his lip, and fought back the swell of emotion. It wouldn't do to break down like this, not here, not now.

"Roxas?"

Roxas jumped, and only barely managed to keep from dropping the trophy. He stared at Sora, who was standing in the doorway, at a complete loss for what to do. Would Sora be pissed that he was touching the trophy? It was his stuff, Roxas had no right-

"Mom says dinner's in a few minutes." He wandered in, and gently retrieved the trophy from Roxas' grasp and replaced it on the shelf. "Why were you looking at that?"

Sora wasn't angry. He cocked his head, eyes bright, a cheerful smile on his face. Roxas moved to his backpack and pulled the blue marble out of a side pocket of it and handed it to Sora. "My dad gave that to me when he won the Struggle. I was six." Sora rolled the marble between his fingers, and held it up to compare it to the trophy on the shelf. "I didn't mean anythi-"

"Don't worry about it," Sora said. He handed the marble back and Roxas slipped it into his pocket. "Uh, Mom also said to tell you that she wants you to borrow some of my clothes for right now since those don't fit and she thinks mine'll fit you better."

-

A few minutes later, Roxas surveyed himself in the mirror. Riku, as his name turned out to be, had wandered in as Sora was staring blankly at his closet, and with a surprisingly efficiency had a pile of clothes picked out before either Roxas or Sora had made any movement to pick anything out. Riku's first choices had been, as he termed it, 'stuff Mrs. Strife wants Sora to wear that he refuses to', but according to Sora's complaints, it was because they were too heavy, not because he didn't like them. Roxas didn't really care, but they fit him well. It consisted of a thin, black, zip-up shirt with a high collar, and jeans with sort-of chaps tacked on. There was a matching jacket, but neither Riku nor Sora could figure out where in his room it was. Sora said it'd surface eventually, things always did, but Riku doubted it, and said something to the effect of comparing Sora's room to a black hole with an appetite.

There was a whole pile of things to try on, but Mrs. Strife was calling up the stairs that dinner was ready, and Roxas looked himself over one last time before opening the door and heading down the stairs.

Riku and Sora were already in the kitchen with Kairi, but Cloud was nowhere to be seen. Mrs. Strife said he had plans, and Sora whispered, "He's testing a new ramp his friend Leon has, for motorcycles, but don't tell Mom, she'll flip," in Roxas' ear as Sora passed behind him to set the table.

Dinner was weird. Mrs. Strife kept asking him questions, but none of them were particularly personal, and all of them were things that the other three teens chipped in on and, occasionally, took over completely. Sora mentioned that Roxas' dad had won a Struggle, and Mrs. Strife turned to Sora, and asked in a scarily quiet tone of voice, "Did you forget to mention you'd be fighting adults when you told me about it?"

All the chatter had died, and Sora's eyes were huge. He opened his mouth, probably to beg her not to kill him, when Roxas took pity on him. "My dad was nineteen, so that's not really an adult," he said. Mrs. Strife raised her eyebrows, but she didn't press the issue and after a moment, the conversation returned to normal. Sora nudged his foot under the table, and Roxas took that to mean thank-you-for-saving-my-ass. He felt a little bit bad for lying, but _hell_, Mrs. Strife was _scary_. And he'd only fudged it by five years. Most of the participants, as far as he remembered, were generally younger than that, but it still wasn't that much of a difference. And if Sora was strong enough to win the entire competition, it probably didn't matter how old the other fighters were.

"Hey, Sora?" Roxas asked, when there was a lull in the conversation. "You didn't fight a guy named Hayner, did you?"

Sora scrunched his face, and it went quiet. Everybody stared at him, waiting for an answer, but finally, Sora shrugged. "I don't remember. I fought a lot of guys. And a girl. She was scary."

"Blond, devil-may-care attitude, probably picked fights outside of the arena?" He hadn't seen Hayner since he was shoved into the system, but he remembered the boy well. He and Hayner had sworn that when they were old enough, they were going to fight it, and they were going to win it, too, and share the winnings with the other, no matter which one won. It'd be nice to get in touch with him, find out what'd changed, what stayed the same. "Probably lasted pretty far."

"You know, I think I do remember him…" Sora said. "I have pictures of all the guys in it in my room, I'll show you later."

The rest of dinner consisted of Kairi complaining about something to Mrs. Strife, and Sora objecting every other statement. Riku stayed silent, but more than once, Roxas caught him looking at him, with a contemplative expression. Roxas resisted the urge to squirm, and as soon as dinner was over, he jumped up. Mrs. Strife kicked them all out of the kitchen, claiming that as it was Roxas' first night there, he didn't need to be doing dishes, and they all piled into Sora's room.

Kairi pretty much immediately welcomed Roxas into their group, and treated him almost exactly the same that she treated Riku and Sora- quiet amusement at their antics, and snarky comments when there was a need. Riku and Sora wrestled on the bed, fighting for no particular reason. Kairi was sitting in Sora's desk chair, and Roxas was sprawled out next to her, back against the door. It was nice, for all that it was loud, and every few minutes Mrs. Strife called up and told them to quiet down, and he and Kairi talked a bit, about nothing in particular.

For once, he was in a place where his reputation hadn't preceded him, and it felt _good_.

* * *

A/N: I started this intending it to be a one-shot, but it kind of took on a life of its own, and it's definitely going to be a chaptered fic.

Returning Home is still my priority, and I'm planning to update that every three days or so, but y'all can expect this a minimum of once a week, and knowing me, it'll probably be more often than that.

Enjoy!

-Nyeerg


	2. Chapter 2

A/N: I thought I had uploaded this chapter, but I discovered this morning that I hadn't. My bad, everybody! Sorry!

* * *

A sharp knock shot through Roxas' subconscious, and the boy startled awake. His daydream and his pleasant drowsiness faded away to annoyance, and he rolled over to let out a complaint when he realized who it was standing in his doorway.

Mrs. Strife stood there, in her usual jeans and sweater, but that wasn't what turned his expression dark and completely killed any lingering thoughts of it being a good day. Behind Mrs. Strife stood his caseworker, in a sharp black pantsuit that brought, unbidden, uncomfortable memories of being essentially tossed into the back of a car and driven away from yet another foster home. Roxas sat up, eyes narrowed suspiciously, and stared at the caseworker. "Why are you here?" he demanded. He crossed his arms, and he began to grow nervous as neither woman said anything. He hadn't done anything wrong recently, had he? Yeah, he and Sora tracked mud through most of the house that one time, but they'd cleaned it up and Mrs. Strife hadn't seemed _too_ angry. Why was the caseworker here?

"If you'll run on down to the kitchen, we'll be down in a moment, alright?" Mrs. Strife gave him a strained smile, and stalked into his room to throw open the curtains and open the window. "Sora's already down there making pancakes."

Roxas took that as a good sign, although anything involving his caseworker wasn't good, and he sidled past her and bolted down the stairs. Halfway down them, he heard the door click shut, and he paused to stare up at it. What exactly did they want with his room? If they'd wanted to talk in private, they could've just left him asleep.

"Roxas?" Sora appeared at the bottom of the stairs, still in his own pajamas, with a spatula in one hand. "Pancakes are done."

Roxas jumped the last few steps and followed Sora into the kitchen. To his surprise, Cloud was in there, leaning against the counter, with a cup of strong coffee in one hand. He was staring at the hallway, apparently listening intently because Sora held his finger to his lips and just motioned for Roxas to sit down. The blond obeyed, and as quietly as he could, dumped a few pancakes on his plate. Cloud moved behind him to lean against the doorframe, but when Roxas turned his questioning gaze to Sora, the brunet shrugged.

The door opened, and Mrs. Strife's voice carried down the stairs and into the kitchen. "I told you on the phone, I'm not hiding anything. Roxas hasn't been any trouble and I do _not_ appreciate your suspicion! Why don't you have any faith in him?"

Roxas' jaw dropped. He'd been there two weeks, and while he still couldn't figure Mrs. Strife out, he figured sooner or later she'd let it slip that he was too much trouble. What was she getting at?

"It's protocol with the trouble cases. I have to inspect. Please do not raise your voice!"

Cloud stepped back into the kitchen and set down his coffee. "Sora, take Roxas outside for a while." Cloud tossed one look at his little brother, who mumbled something through the pancakes in his mouth, but Cloud was out of the hallway and slipping quietly up the stairs before Sora could swallow.

"What's up with him?" Sora asked. He sighed, and grabbed a pancake off the plate. "C'mon, I guess. Backyard it is."

Roxas followed with a quiet sigh. It wasn't unusual for Cloud to issue strange orders like that, but it wasn't fair for him to listen in or get involved and leave Roxas and Sora out of it. And yet, it was so utterly typical of him that Roxas was at a loss for why he was surprised.

A few minutes later found Roxas sprawled under the tree in the back, in the shade. It was barely ten AM, but the sun was hot and Roxas wasn't wearing a shirt and his pale ass didn't want a sunburn. Sora didn't seem as concerned about it, as he was half in the shade, but he at least was wearing a shirt. "So what do you think Cloud went up there for?" Sora asked.

"I dunno. Maybe he just wants to listen in?" Roxas' wandering hands found a leaf, and began to methodically rip it to pieces.

"Yeah, probably, but I don't see why _we_ had to leave. I mean, they're talking about you, how unfair is it that you can't know what's being said about you?" Sora flopped backwards, then shuffled around to use Roxas' leg as a pillow. "But Cloud'll probably tell us, or at least me, whenever they're done. Mom was really annoyed with your social worker."

"Why?"

"Mom thinks she's over-exaggerating about you being a problem kid and all, cause we've _had_ problem kids and compared to them, you're an _angel_, and it's driving Mom up the wall that apparently nobody trusts you."

Roxas stuck a blade of grass between his lips, and rolled the end around with his tongue. "How long d'you think we'll be stuck out here?" He wiggled, and the grass he was laying on tickled his back. "I should've grabbed a shirt."

Sora bounded to his feet, and the sudden movement startled Roxas. "Let's go get you a shirt, then!"

"…I'm not sure I follow..." Roxas said warily. "I don't _need_-"

"But we have an excuse to go upstairs!" Sora dragged Roxas to his feet amidst protests, and shoved him towards the back door. "Come on! We might be able to catch some of it!"

Roxas sighed and followed the bouncy brunet into the house. Sora snuck along the back hallway, humming a spy song under his breath, and Roxas followed after, walking normally and trying to pretend he wasn't in the same room as Sora.

He was a few steps behind Sora and not really paying attention, when he ran into the boy, and they both stumbled into the kitchen.

Mrs. Strife and the social worker stared at them, and Roxas stared back, with a deer-in-the-headlights expression he was sure Sora's face was mirroring. "Uh…"

"Roxas doesn't have a shirt," Sora said, after a moment of staring. "So we came inside to get one?"

"Where were you?" the social worker asked. She began to get an uppity smirk, as though she knew Roxas had done something wrong. _It's been like five minutes, maybe, what could I have done wrong?_

"Backyard. Cloud sent us out there."

"To do what?" The social worker narrowed her eyes. Roxas was nearly sure that he knew what she was thinking- that he was plotting something, and that things weren't as happy and honest as they seemed. He wondered briefly how long she'd been working with trouble cases to get that jaded against real life.

"To...get…fresh air?" Sora tried.

"To pick flowers for the table?" Roxas said at the same time.

"Yes, flowers," Sora said.

"Fresh air! And sunlight!"

Both women stared at them. Mrs. Strife raised her eyebrows, but she was smiling. The social worker looked annoyed.

"So we couldn't have possibly gotten into anything in five minutes and all and Roxas still needs a shirt, so…" Sora smiled brightly, grabbed Roxas, and dragged him through the kitchen and up the stairs.

"I don't think they believed us," Roxas informed Sora as they huddled around the door in Roxas' room. "Why _did_ Cloud make us go outside?"

"I dunno. He's weird like that sometimes. Maybe he doesn't want us exposed to the stupid?" Sora pressed his ear to the crack while Roxas rummaged through the dresser for a shirt. "I wonder where he went?"

"As you can see, there's nothing wrong with him, and I don't see any need to have him moved to another foster home. He's not done anything wrong!" Mrs. Strife's voice floated up the stairs, and Sora turned to look at Roxas.

"Why does she think you're such an issue?"

Roxas pulled on the shirt, and ran his hands through his hair. "I don't really get along with people my age. Or any age. I get into fights a lot."

"You fight? Like sparring?" Sora turned away from the door completely, suddenly, suspiciously, interested. "Are you any good?"

"Why?" Roxas asked. He knew Sora fought recreationally, but there wasn't any reason for him to be so interested in Roxas' fighting abilities, unless he was interested in _fighting_ Roxas.

"Well, you know this summer's Struggle is coming up soon, and you said you wanted to catch up with some of your friends, and if you're there, Mom'll be way more likely to let me do it again, and maybe if you proved you're good at something, people will stop hating on you so much."

"Did you really just think of all that right now?"

Sora grinned innocently. "Okay, so maybe I've been wondering about Struggle again. And maybe Mom said 'No way in hell' and maaaaaybe, she said that I couldn't go unless I found somebody to go with that she trusted."

Roxas rolled his eyes. "You want _me_ to fight? I haven't fought for more than a few minutes at a time, ever. I'm not good enough for _Struggle_, Sora."

Sora rocked back on his heels, and Roxas was beginning to see that there probably wasn't much of a chance of him saying 'no' actually being listened to. "Yeah, but you can practice! Twilight Town is like an hour away, Cloud could drive us, or Riku cause he has his license, and we can practice against the guys there. Except Seifer, because he's an asshole."

That reminded Roxas of something he'd been wondering about. "How do you all know Seifer?"

"He went to school with us a few years ago, his parents moved here, then moved back to Twilight Town. He always had something against Riku, and dragged me and a couple of our friends into it a time or two." Sora put his finger to his lips, and went back to listening at the door. "It sounds like she's leaving…"

Sora was right. Moments later, the front door closed. It didn't slam so much as close emphatically hard, and then Sora was out of his room and bounding down the stairs.

Roxas followed more sedately. _Should I?_ he wondered. _I could see Hayner again, and I could maybe prove that I'm not just a useless delinquent_.

"So what'd she want, Mom?" Sora asked. Mrs. Strife handed him a plastic bag, and Sora began to put away the pancakes.

"Surprise inspection. And she wanted me to know that she was looking for another place for Roxas. I told her that we want him to stay right here." Mrs. Strife scrubbed angrily at the frying pan in the sink, and Roxas wondered if he should go back to his room. "But she got my point. Roxas?"

"Yeah?" Roxas turned back to her, partway up the stairs.

"You know you're welcome here, right?"

Mrs. Strife and Sora both looked up at him, but Roxas didn't feel like he was put on the spot. Rather, he felt like she actually _meant_ it. It felt _good_.

"Yeah. I know."

She smiled, and Sora looped his hands behind his head and grinned. Roxas had noticed that Sora did that when he was relaxed, and happy, and more than once, Roxas had caught himself imitating the boy.

He headed up to his room, and fell back into bed. It was summer and he didn't have anything to do, and he felt happy and alive and, for the first time since his parents' death, he felt like he might actually belong somewhere.


End file.
